


To Take You Out

by DarkkBluee



Series: Prompt Fills [8]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Crack, Don't copy to another site, Draco Malfoy is a Little Shit, Fluff, Harry is adorably Just Harry, M/M, Misunderstandings, No Beta, Tom Riddle is the only Winner, What else did you expect? - Freeform, can this really be called a mafia AU?, mafia, not at all, take you out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2020-09-26 14:28:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20391196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkkBluee/pseuds/DarkkBluee
Summary: Prompt:Harry, hoping to join the mafia to work off the debts caused by the Dursleys, gets pranked by Draco to take out "that rich guy who lives in Riddle manor" to prove his worth. He does not know the target Tom, is also Voldemort, leader of their mafia gang.





	To Take You Out

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aroundloafofbread](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aroundloafofbread/gifts).
  * In response to a prompt by [aroundloafofbread](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aroundloafofbread/pseuds/aroundloafofbread) in the [TomarryFlashExchanges](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/TomarryFlashExchanges) collection. 

> It's not exactly what the prompt wants, so sorry about that, but the phrasing just got me and this fluffy piece is what you get XD
> 
> Also, No Beta. Fair Warning.

Harry stares at the closed door of Riddle Manor in dread. This is his first mission as a member of the Mafia, an induction mission to prove his worth at that. And it is one assigned to him by Draco Malfoy. 

Draco and him had been rivals in high school and if it hadn’t been for the massive debt that the Dursley’s had burrowed against his name in lieu of the Potter Estate, Harry wouldn’t even think about being in the same_ room _ as Malfoy, let alone in the same mafia family at that.

Harry takes in a deep breath and knocks. Then he waits, in the silence of a cloudy evening, the horses softly neighing in a nearby stable, and not another being, whether human or animal, in sight. He shifts his feet, trying to stand still and counting the seconds passing by, waiting anxiously for someone to answer the door. 

There is no answer.

So he knocks once more. Twice, and thrice.

Despite the light spilling out from curtained windows, no one answers the door even after 15 minutes, and Harry’s shifting feet stop, only to stomp in frustration on the wooden doorstep.

He looks up, blinking wearily at the clouds lazily passing by in a rapidly darkening sky, and swears. Eyes burning with determination, he knocks again, this time more loudly than before.

And then continues knocking loudly and persistently to the tune of ‘We Will Rock You’.

Harry might not be the brightest, or sanest, or the most talented undergrad around, but he certainly was the most stubborn and hard working of his generation.

_ Knock Knock Stomp _

_ Knock Knock Kick _

_ Knock Knock Stomp _

_ Knock Knock Kick _

Somewhere down the line, Harry loses track of exactly why he is knocking, and begins to hum along the song.

_ “ Buddy, you're a boy, make a big noise _

_ Playing in the street, gonna be a big man someday _

_ You got mud on your face, you big disgrace _

_ Kicking your can all over the place, singin' -” _

Someone up there might really hate him, for that was when the door opened and Harry ended up clipping the person who opened the door across their shoulder.

“What?” a low, threatening voice growled and Harry took a step back instinctively. The man has dark hair, dark eyes, pale skin and a glare that makes him reconsider.

“Erm…” Harry looks for a way out, and the sight of the opulent Entrance Room behind the handsome man makes him recall his situtation.

Debts. Dursley’s. Money. Mafia. Draco.

“Right,” he takes in a deep breath and cleans his sweaty palms on his jeans. “Sorry to disturb you. No one was answering the door and…” the glare intensifies and Harry rubs the back of his head with a nervous laugh.

“Good evening. Harry Potter,” he offers his hand and the glare softens. “Do you live here?” He asks politely and the man tilts his head, examining him as if Harry were a specimen on his petri dish and he wanted to poke and prod and examine every strand.

Harry doesn’t like it one bit.

“So, I couldn’t help but notice you have a nice garden and -” he looks around in desperation before his eyes land on his savior, “- are those roses imported? Blue roses are a difficult strain to grow and gods, I have never seen one so lush and well maintained before, so no wonder you managed to grow them and I am sorry I am rambling but staring always make me nervous and you haven’t stopped staring at me for quite some time, so will you please stop?” He begs, and the handsome stranger of Riddle Manor leans against the door frame, eyes staring unblinking at his face.

Harry looks away first, staring at a random spot on the ground, hand still out-stretched, legs fidgeting, and a flush starts to creep up from his neck as the embarrassing silence drags on.

“Tom Riddle.” The stranger says and Harry looks up, hope shining on his face. “Yes, I live here.” Tom drawls and extends his hand to grip his own. 

Tom’s hand is warm, his fingers long and his grip completely engulfing Harry’s own smaller hand, the smooth, pale skin a stark contrast against his own tanned, scarred flesh. Harry can’t help but flush yet again as the warmth of their conjoined hands seeps through his skin and soaks into his veins.

“Oh, um,” Harry smiles and green eyes stare into dark ones for the first time during their brief meeting. “Nice to meet you, Tom.” Tom smiles back, and that handsome face blooms with a deadly beauty, the sight rendering Harry speechless and blushing yet again.

“It is a_ pleasure _ to meet you as well, Harry.” Tom says smoothly. His hand jerks suddenly, drawing Harry inside the house with a grace belied by the force behind it. Harry is caught by surprise, and stumbles inside the room awkwardly, the door closing behind him.

His previous brief glance did little justice to the full wonder of Riddle Manor’s Entrance Hall, and Harry cranes his neck to observe the chandelier hanging above on a high ceiling, flooding the room with light, a fire cracking in a near-by fireplace warming the area in an uncomfortable heat. A dull hiss brings his attention back to the fireplace, and what Harry had previously assumed to be mere skin and pillows, turns out to a _ giant snake _ lazing around on the carpet. 

It is then that the reality of the situation struck out to him. Harry is alone, in a giant mansion, with a scarily handsome man, his pet snake, no weapons on his-self and no neighbors around to hear his screams.

If he survives this, Harry will certainly take a leaf out of Hermione’s book and break the spoiled brat’s nose.

“So, Harry,” Tom turns his piercing gaze back on him, and Harry shivers at its increased intensity. “Done admiring my house?”

“And your snake.” Harry counters, his eyes straying back to admire the snake in the way one can only admire a giant, possibly man-eating snake slithering towards him across a carpeted floor.

“Her name is Nagini,” Tom announces and bends down to pet the snake. “You have excellent eyes. She is certainly my most treasured possession. Admiring her, especially from a close frame of reference is something few can do.” Dark eyes flicker upwards to once again stare unblinking at his own and this time, the effect is doubled for the snake turns her head to do the same. “What brings you here, _ Harry _?”

“Erm, I need to take you out,” he blurts and then freezes as the shock of having just said that to his target’s face colors his cheeks. Tom has frozen as well, his snake turning to encircle Harry. And slowly, as the snake encircles closer, and closer still, dark eyes look at him questioningly and black curls sway as Tom tilts his head curiously.

“Padon?” Tom asks, each word pronounced slowly, tasting each syllable. “Can you please repeat?” He asks and Harry swallows.

“I want to take you out.” Harry stammers. “To dinner. Take you out to dinner.” He looks beseechingly at the handsome man and squeezes out a few tears. “Please, let me take you out?”

“Take me out to dinner.” Tom repeats flatly and Harry nods quickly, desperately. And Tom throws his head back and laughs. “You - you didn’t even know my name, whether I lived here or anything else and you _ want to ask me to dinner? _” Tom wipes away the tears gathering in his eyes due to laughter with his fingers and flashes an open, genuine grin towards Harry for the first time since their conversation began. “Sure. Why not?” Tom agrees and Harry sighs in relief.

“Just one question,” Tom asks as he turns to walk towards his cloak hanger. “Why?”

“Oh,” Harry blinks, wondering whether to tell the truth before shrugging and deciding to do so. After-all, Tom has already agreed and Harry has no problem putting the blame where it belongs. “Draco Malfoy. He told me I needed to take out the rich guy living in Riddle Manor to prove my worth.” Harry grins sheepishly as Tom chokes and throws an incredulous look at him.

“Draco Malfoy?” Tom asks, surprise coloring his voice. “Surely, you don’t mean Lucius Malfoy’s son.”

“The very same.” Harry nods. “He told me to take you out, and I thought I could simply ask you face-to-face. If taking someone out to dinner is what is required for me to ‘prove my worth’, better to do it quick and fast.”

“So asking me out is akin to ripping off a band aid?” Tom asks, amused. He shakes his head in exasperation. “Why do you need to get Draco’s approval? The one with power in the Malfoy family is _ Lucius _, not Draco,” he points out and Harry snorts.

“Don’t I know that.” Harry runs hand through messy black hair and observes Tom Riddle putting on a familiar-looking black overcoat. “But I need to join this organization Draco’s a part of, and this was the simplest way to go about it.” There is a spark of knowledge in Tom’s eyes and Harry looks at him inquiringly. Tom shakes his head, and raises his hands to straighten out his collar. Harry’s eyes fixate on the green and silver embroidered on the collar and cuffs and something about it stands out to him.

“Hey, where did you get that coat? It looks familiar somehow.” Harry asks curiously and Tom turns to give him a sharp, shark-like grin.

“I would certainly hope so, _ Harry _ . After-all, it would be a shame if that delightful innocence of yours was tainted by extreme ignorance as well.” Tom draws near with quick, long steps and his hand strikes out like lightening to grab a hold of Harry’s waist. “Not knowing the face of the leader of _ Draco’s _ organization?” His other hand grabs a hold of a tanned chin and tilts it to meet wide green eyes.

“Lord Voldemort has certainly hoped that pretty face and courage would be paired with at least moderate intelligence, but your eyes certainly make up for the lack as well.” Tom, no Voldemort, smiles at him again, like the cat who caught the canary and the predator who has finally pinned down his prey. “Come _ Harry Potter _ . Weren’t you going to _ take me out _ to _ dinner _?”

For the first time, Harry realizes _exactly_ how screwed he is as he stares at his _ future boss _ with growing alarm, and _ arousal _.


End file.
